The Silence Between Us
by Destielixer
Summary: How it should have ended. Sherlock S3E03. When London calls its beloved detective back. Is he ready to tell John how he feels? Johnlock. Mystrade.


**AN: This story was inspired by the song [Running Up That Hill - Track & Field] and [Already Home - A Great Big World]. So if you can, listen to it as you read. **

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**The Silence Between Us**

"You know Sherlock is actually a girl's name," he told John with a small smile.

John laughed and looked away.

Sherlock looked to his feet. He didn't know what else to say and time was running out. He would be flown off to another country and according to Mycroft be dead in another 6 months time.

"You-" they both began at the same time and John shook his head, "You first."

"No you," Sherlock told him.

John gave a tight smile, "It's going to be different here. London. It'll be different without you."

"Yeah," the detective swallowed. He couldn't trust himself to speak more than a few syllables at a time.

He saw John furrow his brows. Confused. At a loss. There wasn't much to say was there. The goodbyes. The 'I love you's and 'I miss you's were stuck in between them. Sherlock took off his glove now and proffered his hand to John. Once more John's blue eyes looked to him confused, and in the depths of them there was a brokenness. Or so he liked to think.

Sherlock counted eight seconds before John finally took his hand and shook it. And steeling himself, Sherlock pulled his hand from John's. He turned and headed into the private jet.

John stood there staring long after Sherlock was gone. Mary came to his side and guided him away. He swallowed, feeling as Mary slipped her hand into his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"He'll be fine you know?" she assured him. And John nodded. It wasn't right though. This whole thing, Sherlock being deported on account of killing Magnussen for Mary, it was wrong. He could still remember it clearly, the way Sherlock slipped his arm around him, reaching for the gun in his coat pocket. John didn't think that the detective would do such a thing. But he had. His throat tightened as he remembered the way Sherlock looked at him, hands raised above his head. Helpless. He wasn't a hero. He became a criminal.

John scrubbed his hand over his face. Shutting his eyes as the jet took off down the runway.

"Are you alright?" Mary asked leaning closer to him.

John nodded, taking a deep breath, hoping it would expel the sense of dread and sadness that was at that very moment threatening to choke him and overwhelm him. "I'll be fine," he answered as he shoved his hands in his coat pocket.

Sherlock supported his chin with his hand as he looked out the window. He could see John standing there with Mary, the assassin with his child. The woman he loved. Never in his entire life had he felt such a heart wrenching pain in his chest, seeing John with someone that wasn't him, making him happy. Sherlock pressed his lips against his knuckles his eyes hot now as he fought the urge to blink. He wouldn't cry. Not now.

He exhaled, pursing his lips as the jet began to gather speed and he was whisked pass John and Mary. It was only then that Sherlock blinked and he felt the tears drip. He ignored them feeling them soak into his shirt as they fell from his eyes. Sherlock hadn't cried since Redbeard. And now John. Once they were up in the air he steeped his hands and pressed them to his lips, closing his eyes.

It was over.

He wouldn't ever see John Hamish Watson ever again.

* * *

"London needs you," Mycroft told him

"Make up your mind," Sherlock growled into the phone and hung up.

It hadn't been more than four minutes and now the plane was turning back.

John.

Now he began to panic. What would he say when he was back?

"It's turning back! It's turning back around!" Mary exclaimed beside him.

John looked up and he swore his heart leapt. Why was the jet coming back though? Surely not for him…

The white jet touched down on the run way and from it Sherlock emerged from it. As he stared John's eyes locked with the detective's and he couldn't look away.

"I'm back," Sherlock said as he stood before him.

And John threw himself against Sherlock, hugging the detective to him. "I bloody missed you," he whispered into Sherlock's chest as he pressed himself close feeling the tears welling up in his eyes. Sherlock's scent enveloped him and a sense of security, a sense of belonging washed over him.

Sherlock allowed himself to put his arms around John and hug the slighter man close. He hadn't ever held anyone to him and he was surprised at how awfully nice this was. Having the warmth of another, the warmth of the one you loved pressing against you. He let himself have a moment as he smiled into John's hair.

That was until Mycroft cleared his throat. "Sherlock, I believe we have matters to discuss."

Now though John pulled away he stood close to him and Sherlock was reluctant to follow Mycroft afraid that John would leave without him. He pulled on John's wrist just as the doctor was headed back to Mary. "Wait for me?" he asked before averting his eyes.

"Hey, Sherlock, look at me," the doctor told him and Sherlock raised his head. "You didn't need to ask. I was going to."

A smile crossed his lips and he let go of John's hand, following Mycroft to his car.

Mary raised a brow, looking to him as he came back to her side.

"What was that about?" she asked.

John shrugged, watching Sherlock talking with his brother. "I don't know," he answered, "I guess…I needed him more than I thought."

Mary giggled, "Do you two boys wanna spend some time together? I could go back first."

"Yeah, sure," John answered in much of a daze as Mary gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then made for their car.

"You are going to tell him aren't you?" Mycroft said as he shut the file.

"Tell him? Yup."

His brother rolled his eyes, "Not about your feelings. I meant Moriarty."

Sherlock stared at Mycroft, annoyed, "I meant Moriarty too."

A smirk crossed Mycroft's lips, "Sure you did," he chuckled.

"Oh shut it. It's not like you aren't seeing Gavin."

Now that got him, "It's Greg," Mycroft ground out, "His name is Greg."

"Gavin," Sherlock argued as he turned away from Mycroft walking back to John who was standing there waiting.

"Where's Mary?" Sherlock asked as he came back.

"She um…she left."

"So Baker Street then?"

John nodded, "Yes.

* * *

The journey home in the cab was silent. A comfortable silence between John and himself as the ride continued. He looked to John finding the doctor's hand on the space in the seat between them as John looked out the window. He gulped, looking from John's hand back to his face.

And then John turned to catch him looking so he turned away, looking out his window. He slid his hand from his lap though and settled it on the empty seat between them. He chanced a glace at John, the doctor inched his hand over. Sherlock followed suit until he hooked pinkies with John. That was all he needed.

He waited for John to pay the cabbie before they entered their home.

"John," he called out as the doctor was on the first stair up to their shared apartment.

"Hm?"

Sherlock closed the distance between them standing before John who was now on eye level with him as he stood on the first step. "Can I tell you something?" he said as he gazed into John's eyes.

"Anything."

Sherlock closed his eyes and taking John's hands in his he leant his forehead to John's. "This is something that I should've told you when I first saw you. I don't know why I didn't."

"Because I got mad at you."

"Yes you did."

"John Hamish Watson," Sherlock whispered his thumb stroking over John's hands, he smiled when he didn't feel the cool touch of a wedding band.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes," John chuckled as he leaned in to Sherlock.

"I'm in love with you," he whispered, "I wish I'd told you sooner…"

John hushed him and lightly brushed his lips to Sherlock's, "I love you Sherlock and I wouldn't have it happen any other way."

Now Sherlock kissed him for real, pressing his lips to John's and sighing in contentment as John leaned into him, his hands shifting to tangle in his hair. Sherlock smiled into the kiss. This was perfect. This was how it should all have been.

John and Sherlock.

He pushed his worries aside for now. Moriarty's return. Mary's lies. Everything didn't matter as long as his doctor was with him.

John Watson kept him in check, kept him alive and thawed his heart.

He wouldn't let any harm come to John.

His beloved.

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**AN: A short something that I wrote after watching the whole of S3. I'm waiting for S4. And, hopefully I will have enough time to write more short drabbles because I can't keep to updating long stories. Leave a comment to let me know what you thought of the story. **


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